


Flowers in the abyss

by Egle_js



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Angst with a Happy Ending, Auror Harry Potter, Blow Jobs, Bottom Draco Malfoy, Drunk Sex, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Gay Sex, Harry in Love, M/M, Minor Character Death, Oral Sex, Porn With Plot, Porn with Feelings, Rough Sex, Semi-Public Sex, Top Harry
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-14
Updated: 2021-02-22
Packaged: 2021-03-12 06:54:13
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 14,920
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28756188
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Egle_js/pseuds/Egle_js
Summary: Harry Potter and Draco Malfoy have always been divided by a deep rivalry. Can a traumatic event bring Draco and Harry closer, showing the frailties of both and establishing an ephemeral intimacy, difficult to explain and to maintain?
Relationships: Draco Malfoy & Harry Potter, Draco Malfoy/Harry Potter
Comments: 18
Kudos: 175





	1. CHAPTER 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hello everyone and welcome back 😊   
> A few warnings before starting: it deals with a delicate subject such as suicide and the loss of a loved one.  
> I tried to talk about it in the most delicate and respectful way possible.  
> The story starts sadly, then I promise you it will rise again ...  
> As always thanks to my historical beta, which has been skipping all the intros lately heheheh ....  
> And I leave you to read :-)

**CHAPTER 1**

It had been a long and tiring day. The rain had fallen all afternoon, making the ground slick and slippery. More than one Auror had fallen badly to the ground. The search for the missing girl had begun two hours after her parents' report and fortunately ended before dark when the girl was found. She hid in the hollow of a tree after realizing she had lost the path and her parents. She suffered from the onset of hypothermia but had no injuries or trauma. Harry felt exhausted.

"Good evening, Potter"

Harry nodded to a couple of recruits, who had paused for a moment outside his office door. He finished stacking parcels of documents to be checked on the side of the desk and was about to go home when he saw an Auror swiftly pass by and headed for the office of McKenzie, the night shift manager.

“A call for help from Malfoy Manor. Red sparks were reported a few minutes ago. No owl has come. "

Harry quickly covered the distance that separated them and looked into the office of the older Auror. “I'll take the call”. He didn't know why he said it. The cold had crept into his bones and he just wanted to go home and enjoy a night in front of Netflix.

McKenzie looked at him for a moment, his brow furrowed. "Potter, are you already ..."

“I'll go, you'll take the next one. It's Friday… it will be a hellish night. " Harry concluded, walking back to the common area, where the Aurors on the night shift were loitering in front of the coffee machine.

He ordered three Aurors to accompany him and then disappeared. He reappeared shortly after in front of the wrought iron gate. The whole neighborhood seemed to be immersed in an unreal tranquility, interspersed only by the incessant roar of the rain.

The pedestrian gate of the villa was open. Some windows were lighted. Harry expected to see The White Peacocks spinning around the garden, but all was quiet and eerily calm. He pulled out his wand and walked to the main door.

Instinctively he tried to open it and the door slid smoothly onto its hinges, revealing a large hall. Scent of fresh flowers and floor detergent. Harry glanced at the keys lying on the coffee table next to a bag containing food. He touched the bag, cautious, his senses on alert. It was all cold. A cloak and a man's jacket hung on the coat rack in the entrance. He reached out and touched the elegant fabric of the coat. It was only slightly damp.

"Ministry Auror," he shouted aloud, proceeding cautiously. His boots left rainwater stains on the tiles. He motioned for two Aurors to continue towards the stairs, even though the first floor was dark, and the third to follow him. The whole house was immersed in an unnatural silence, the fireplaces were going out.

He was about to repeat the warning when he saw a square of light stand out on the living room floor.

"This way, I'm unarmed," said a voice. Harry felt his stomach twist as he realized it resembled Draco Malfoy's.

The feet tilted outwards were the first thing he saw that through an open door. He went on quickly, stopping on the threshold of what looked like a study. Lucius Malfoy was lying on the carpet. A belt tied around the neck, The ghostly face, The hair scattered on the carpet. His snake-headed cane leaning against the desk. An overturned chair. Harry dropped to one knee, placing two fingers on Lucius' carotid, just above the purplish and black mark left by his belt. His skin was cold. Harry exhaled deeply, before turning to Draco.

He was kneeling, his arms raised so that his fingers were interlocked behind his neck. His wand was placed in front of him.

"Hands up. Put them where we can see them "shouted the Auror behind him.

"Stop it," Harry growled, kneeling in front of Malfoy. "Put your hands down," he murmured, barely touching his forearm.

"I'm unarmed," the former Slytherin repeated again and Harry noticed that his eyes were blank. His cold body.

“I know, Malfoy. Put your hands down,” he said gently. He put his arm around his waist and helped him up. "Come ... let's get out of here"

Harry led him out of the study and sat him down on the living room sofa, turning on all the lights with a flick of his wand. He ordered the Aurors to call the coroners for surveys and not to touch anything. He thought for a moment whether to turn on the fireplace to dampen the cold that gripped the house but decided to let it go. Malfoy was still, his gaze on the floor, his hands clasped between his knees. He was trembling.

Harry sat across from him and charmed a feather to record what Malfoy would say. The former Slytherin hadn't looked him in the face yet, he still had that bewildered look that Harry had learned to recognize in people in shock.

"Can you tell me ..."

"I found him half an hour ago. I cut the belt and pulled him down. I could not…"

His voice broke for a moment. “I couldn't leave him there. I made sure he was dead and then I called you. I didn't touch anything "

Harry suddenly realized that in addition to the shock, there was fear in Malfoy's voice. The fear of being indicted… of returning to Azkaban.

"Okay," Harry exhaled. “We will have to temporarily seize your wand to check the latest spells made. This is just the standard procedure. If there is no problem, they will return it to you tomorrow. " he said, casting a hard look at the Aurors who were playing with Lucius’s walking stick.

As soon as they felt Harry watched, they stopped immediately.

Harry pursed his lips for a moment before returning to stare at Malfoy. Head bowed, shoulders hunched forward. He seemed to have the weight of the world on his back.

"Had he ever tried ..." he murmured, hating himself for that, but he had to make sure it was suicide.

Draco just nodded. “First time in Azkaban. With the sheets. My uncle Rodolphus and I took him down before The Dementors…” he whispered, biting his bottom lip hard. Something stirred in the depths of his gaze, but Draco was quick to choke it.

“One, after he got out. He had cut his wrists, but the doctors managed to stop the bleeding. It was eight days ago. I only left him for a few minutes ... just to ... "Malfoy's voice broke again and a more violent tremor crossed his shoulders.

"Okay," Harry whispered, softly stroking his back. He did not withdraw from his touch. "It should be enough. Do you have someone to call? Your mother…"

“My parents got divorced. She is somewhere in France…” he said, slightly shaking his head. “It… it doesn't matter. I can go to the hotel for a while "

The former Slytherin was about to get up, but the sight of his father's lifeless feet glimpsed through the open door sent him back onto the sofa. His face turned an alarming white and Harry wondered if he was about to pass out.

"Stay here. I'll take you,” he murmured, starting to walk away when Malfoy grabbed him by the wrist,“ Potter, ”he murmured, then looking up at him. His eyes were veiled with tears and so sunken they looked like two pieces of ice embedded in his skull.

"Don't let them do anything to him ... he's a Death Eater ..." he whispered in a choked voice.

Harry squeezed his hand for a few moments. “They won't do anything to him. I promise you." he assured him. He left to speak quickly with the Aurors who had accompanied him. He ordered them to take the body to the St. Mungo morgue and to guard the entrance. Whatever happened to Lucius he would hold them responsible. The medical examiners confirmed that on initial examination nothing suggested anything other than suicide.

Harry thanked them and then returned to Draco, still sitting in the same position. Nobody approached him to offer him hot tea or a blanket. Or even just to pay him condolences. "Come on, Malfoy," he said, slipping an arm around his waist again. He held him up the stairs asking him what his room was.

"The one at the end of the corridor, but I don't use it anymore ... I settled in the one next to my father’sto keep an eye on it even at night." Draco replied. Harry watched him walk into a sparse room and mechanically fill a bag with essential items. _He seems calm, controlled ... but this is even scarier. He looks like he's about to implode._

Harry waited for him to finish before escorting him back downstairs. The Aurors kept moving in and out of the house. The floor was covered with mud stains. For them it was just another night of work, for Malfoy it was perhaps one of the worst moments of his life. Harry wrapped his heavy coat around him, then pulled him close. Draco allowed himself to be manipulated docilely, his eyes bewildered, his legs unsure. Harry told one of the Aurors that he would come home and to call him in case of need. He tightened his grip on Draco when the former Slytherin grabbed his arm.

"Wait," he whispered, her fingers digging into his skin. He stepped back as Lucius's corpse was carried away on a stretcher, hidden by a dark gray sheet.

“Let's go, the Aurors will seal the house. You can't do anything here"

"No ... I don't want to leave my father ..."

"Now they will take him to St Mungo for the checks, they won't let you get close anyway ..."

Draco shivered; tears trapped in his staring eyes. Harry wrapped his arm more around him, stroking his back reassuringly. Only once had he seen him so upset. "I'll take you away ... lean on me," he whispered. Draco stayed stiff against him, but he didn't resist.

They reappeared shortly afterwards at Grimmauld Place, 12. Harry helped Draco take off his coat and their eyes met again. Draco seemed to come to his senses, as if focusing on his face for the first time. "It wasn't necessary ..." he murmured, tightening his grip around the bag's buckle.

"Yes, it is. You are in shock. You can't be alone now. You can stay here as long as you need. Tomorrow morning, I will take you to the Ministry for practices. "

Harry thought he was about to say he preferred to leave, but something in his tone made him desist.

Eventually, Malfoy narrowed his lips to a thin line, giving a small nod. “You can use the bathroom upstairs. Why don't you take a hot bath? "

Harry fell silent. What could he say to someone who had just taken down their father hanging from the chandelier? Malfoy drew him out of embarrassment, merely climbing upstairs with a slow pace.

Harry was again struck by the thought that he was carrying the weight of the whole world on him. He followed him with his eyes, before heading for the kitchen. He filled the kettle, then opened the refrigerator, not knowing what to do. He figured Malfoy wasn't very hungry. His stomach contracted painfully. The day in the woods had starved him more than he thought possible, despite the evening's events.

He was about to take some eggs and cook an omelette when he heard Malfoy's voice calling him from upstairs. It just didn't sound like Malfoy's voice, so twisted by panic and horror.

Harry walked up the steps two by two, wand in hand. He tried to open the bathroom door but found it blocked by a spell.

"Fuck" he growled, grabbing the wooden jamb with his fingers and unleashing a powerful kick that collapsed the frame and rotated the door on its hinges.

Malfoy was lying in the bathtub. He was covering his face with his hands. Some water had fallen to the floor. And on the carpet beside the tub gleamed a razor blade from his cabinet above the sink.

Harry checked for blood on Malfoy's arms before taking the razor blade and pulling it away. All of his gestures were incredibly calm. _He called me before doing something ..._

"Come on, get out of there," he whispered, passing his arms under his to get him back on his feet. He covered Malfoy with a large bath towel, holding most of his weight. The former Slytherin stepped over the edge of the bathtub with one leg before collapsing against him. Harry wrapped him with both arms, pulling him over him ... on the floor ... their legs entwined as Malfoy buried his face in the hollow between his neck and shoulder and screamed. A broken cry of a mortally wounded animal.

His whole body was shaking uncontrollably. Harry gently stroked his hair, letting him continue sobbing and screaming until he was hoarse. He never knew how long they stood there on the cold floor. Harry was just trying to cover Malfoy as much as possible to keep him from getting cold… to squeeze him as much as possible to keep him from falling apart.

Harry closed his eyes, his nose in his hair, his hands on his back. He whispered empty words, which could not ease his pain, but which had been repeated to him on several occasions. Harry didn't think they really had an effect, but Malfoy's screams were so heartbreaking that he would have done anything not to hear him scream like that.

Only when the former Slytherin gave in to a silent and exhausted cry, Harry dared to make him lift his head.

Malfoy didn't look him in the eye, hiding behind his slightly long hair. "Let's get off the floor," Harry whispered, helping him to his feet. He led him into the guest room, then made him sit on the bed. For a moment he wondered if he wasn't becoming catatonic.

He opened his duffel bag and pulled out a pair of boxers, a T-shirt and a pair of comfortable pants. He placed them on the bed beside him, then headed for the window. He started to pull the curtains when Malfoy's croaking voice stopped him and told him to leave them open. Harry took a deep breath, staring at an indistinct point through the glass.

It was a cold, dark night. The rain hadn't stopped falling for a single second.

All the fireplaces in Grimmauld Place were lit but somehow the frost had crept through the plaster, cloaking the house in a solid and heavy sadness.

When Harry turned back, Malfoy was dressed. Hands between knees, head down. "I made you some hot tea." Harry said as the former Slytherin raised his head to look at him.

"Why are you doing it?"

Harry shrugged, not having a better answer. Malfoy's expression softened only for a moment, before he returned to stare at empty space. "Yeah ... you are the hero of this story. I'm just the mediocre villain. "

Harry just snorted. "Enough with this talk," he cut short, pulling back the duvet and tucking up the pillows.

"Do you also want to go to bed now?" Malfoy replied in a pale attempt to unleash the mocking tone Harry knew well. He just squeezed his shoulder, guiding him onto the mattress and under the covers. Harry tucked up the duvet, pausing beside him for a moment. "Try to sleep"

"I don't want to sleep," Malfoy replied in a low voice. A single tear gushed from the corner of his eye and then crashed on the pillow. Somehow it was more intimate than the desperate cry of a moment before. Harry shifted his weight from foot to foot uncomfortably.

"I'll go get you a cup of tea," he said, but Malfoy immediately called him back.

"Don't leave me alone," he whispered so quietly that Harry could hardly hear him. He was unsure what to do for a few seconds. Eventually, he slipped off his Auror shoes and jacket, then draped it over the back of a chair. He lay down on the bed, his back against a pile of pillows. Malfoy's hand came out after a few moments from the duvet and landed on his arm, gripping the fabric of the shirt between his fingers. His face was invisible under the layers of blankets.

Harry squeezed his hand for a moment before leaning back against the pillows.

It was going to be a long night.

**

Harry slowly moved his neck. At some point he must have fallen asleep. He turned over in the duvet, absently wondering what time it was. Malfoy was gone. Before he left, Malfoy had covered him with the quilt and left a note on his pillow.

_I'm fine, don't worry._

_Thanks for tonight._

_D.M._


	2. CHAPTER 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Second chapter of the story ... Harry and Draco begin to approach in a completely different situation than the first chapter ... I will not spoil you and leave you to read :-)

**CHAPTER 2**

Harry saw Malfoy again two weeks after Lucius died. He was sitting on the front steps of Grimmauld Place, number 12. He was waiting for him. A bottle of scotch in your hands. As soon as he saw him, he stood up. The winter coat of an elegant dark blue made him appear taller, his clothes and hair were flawless. He looked like the older version of the boy Harry had met at Hogwarts. Only the expression was different, less mocking, less disgusted ... less Malfoy.

Harry nodded to him and led him into the house. It was bloody cold. He lit the fireplace and took two glasses from the cabinet, after taking off his Auror jacket.

"Ice?"

"No, thanks," Malfoy replied, accepting the glass he handed him and then raising it in a toast. "To Lucius"

Harry repeated the toast, pouring the scotch down in two long gulps. He squinted a little, feeling it burn in his stomach. He could drink a couple of pints of beer with no problem, but he had never been a connoisseur of finer spirits.

"I have to… ask you one favor… another, in fact," Malfoy muttered, uttering each word as if he were making a huge effort. Harry could trace deep suffering barely concealed by the pallor of his face and the dark circles digging into his cheeks.

He nodded a little while Malfoy poured them both more scotch. “My father was cremated. I should…"

His voice broke for a moment and Harry sensed that whatever it was he didn't know how to ask. “I don't want his grave to be devastated someday. I don't even want to keep him with me ... on the fireplace ... he would have hated it, so I thought I'd take his ashes to a place he loved and leave him there ... "

Harry closed his fingers on the glass, one elbow resting on the bar. They hadn't sat down yet since they entered the house. Part of him wanted to say yes right away, but it seemed important that Malfoy asked him explicitly.

“I can't go alone. Could you please accompany me? I don't know who else to ask. "

Harry just nodded, finishing his second glass of scotch. "Good," Draco whispered. “We leave on Friday evening and come back on Sunday. Do you have warm clothes and mountaineering equipment? "

**

Harry bitterly regretted saying yes, watching the barely-trodden path climb the mountain in front of them. He buried his chin in the coat, wrapping his arms around his body. The icy wind whipped his face, his beard was already flecked with snow and his lips had become dry and numb. Although he had often gone camping, he had never been a lover of winter sports or high-altitude trekking.

"How far is this frozen lake?" he asked, making a small grimace.

Malfoy stopped in front of him, adjusting the collar of his jacket better. He had lent him all the equipment, adjusting his boots with a spell that were very wide and his trousers too long.

"A couple of hours of climbing. Three with you "replied the former Slytherin, sliding his hands along his chest and stopping them on his waist. He secured a rope to the harness that he had made him wear and made sure it was firm.

His fingers moved fast and expertly.

"What's this for?" Harry asked, then watching Malfoy form a knot in the middle of the stretch of rope between them.

"If you slide off a crevasse, I could counterbalance and pull you up," Malfoy replied, continuing to examine the equipment without looking at him.

"And is there this possibility?" Harry asked, hoping to sound more confident than he was.

Malfoy just shook his head, giving him a look. A corner of his mouth flickered into a wry smile, making him suddenly plunge back into school years. "Scared, Potter?"

"You wish. I'm just wondering if you didn't arrange everything to kill me "

“Indeed yes, Potter. That's my goal, "replied the former Slytherin, turning away from him and starting to climb the slope. Harry took the first steps not quite sure, but the teeth of the crampon gripped the frozen snow, not letting it slip. They began to climb the mountain, their breath condensing into white clouds in front of their mouths.

Harry scrupulously followed Malfoy's footsteps, treading his footprints. The former Slytherin walked without hesitation, moving with elegance as if he was not making any effort and stopping only from time to time to allow him to catch his breath.

"How long have you been doing this?" Harry asked him. His legs were strong and muscular, used to the running and training that all Aurors had to do, but he was constantly hungry for air due to the altitude.

Malfoy stopped. His eyes were invisible hidden behind the heavy glasses that protected him from the glare of the sun on the snow. "My father was the expert"

"Really?"

He nodded, waiting for Harry to join him. The valley of snow and ice stretched out below them. Harry had never seen anything like it. If the snowy meadows around Hogwarts had something magical, the Alps between Switzerland and Italy possessed a wild and rugged charm. "There is a long tradition of mountaineering in England. Wizards and Muggles challenged each other from the mid-nineteenth century to the second half of the twentieth century to conquer the highest peaks on the planet ... it didn't really matter who among wizards and muggles reached the top first ... the important thing was that he was English ... " Malfoy said, fixing his gaze on an indefinite point in that sea of white.

“My father was a member of one of the oldest mountaineering associations. He was… incredible. He always knew which was the most correct point of support, the way to tackle a rocky wall ... I was trying to keep up with him, but ... "

Malfoy shrugged, returning to wade a path that he could now reconstruct only with memory. Harry waited for him to complete the sentence, but Malfoy didn't. “We are almost there. Let's go on ”he said, starting to walk again.

After half an hour Harry was about to ask Malfoy to stop again, but the former Slytherin turned towards him, indicating a dip.

"That way"

Harry only managed to nod, continuing to walk, until Malfoy stopped. The former Slytherin pulled out his wand and muttered a spell. The snow began to melt, revealing a thick sheet of ice, which cracked and then broke. The water began to fill the cracks. Dark and cold.

So there was really a lake down there somewhere. Harry just hoped the ice wouldn't shatter under their feet. He watched Malfoy take off his backpack, drop one knee in the frozen snow and take out a metal urn. He held it over his palm for a few seconds before opening it and spilling the ashes it contained into the water.

"Have a nice trip, dad," he murmured.

Harry noticed that a tear appeared from under the bottom edge of his glasses. The tear followed the profile of the cheek and then went to die in the high collar of the jacket. Malfoy unzipped his coat and pulled a flask from his inside pocket. He took a small sip and then passed it to Harry who drank. The liquor was tepid, warmed by Draco's body heat. As Harry handed it back to Malfoy, he poured what was left into the lake.

"Cognac Jenssen Arcana ... it was my father's favorite," he said, getting to his feet. He pulled up his glasses, looking at the landscape. It looked like an alien universe. The sky was incredibly blue and the cold sun made the snow glisten.

"He would have loved this day," he added. "I prefer to remember him like this ... as the father who would have liked to be here on a day like this."

Harry placed his hand in the center of Malfoy's back. After a moment he reached his hand up to his shoulder. Malfoy didn't grow tense at his touch. Harry got the feeling that the former Slytherin was indulging in the caress of his hand. Harry just squeezed his shoulder as the former Slytherin turned towards him. "I'm sorry for your father, Malfoy"

His gray eyes were watering, but it was hard to tell if it was the glare of the sun or the moment. "Not many people would have done what you did for me," Malfoy whispered, placing a hand to the side of his neck and for a moment Harry wished his hands weren't covered by the gloves.

"It's nothing," Harry whispered, feeling his heart foolishly speed up.

"That's not true," Draco muttered, pulling his hand up to his cheek. The thumb lightly caressed his cheekbone. “You were with me on one of the worst nights of my life. And today you came here, with me ... I could not have imagined a better greeting for my father, Potter. I will not forget it. "

"The least you can do is bring me down," Harry said lightly, hoping to break the tension. Draco snapped his arm around his waist, squeezing it slightly. Harry stiffened, grabbing Malfoy's arms. Their crampons rattled against each other with a metallic clang.

“We can disappear. It is cold enough and far enough away from steep walls not to risk inadvertently causing an avalanche. Hold on, ”Malfoy whispered, tightening his grip on his waist.

**

Three days later Harry received a package with a bottle of whiskey in it and two tickets to the Cannons game. There was no note. Harry was about to write to Malfoy if he wanted to go with him to see the game, since he had paid for the tickets, but in the end, he decided to ask Ron.

**

Eight months later it was the night of the slaughter. A werewolf broke into a Muggle house where a girls' sleepover was taking place. He had slaughtered six of them, plus the hosts.

Harry shivered. His hands were still caked with blood and he couldn't stop shaking.

He had been one of the first to arrive and it was he who had killed the werewolf.

It wasn't the violence or the blood. He was used to that. It was the boy's eyes that made him collapse. They were so ... young, scared. As soon as death came, he had seen the transformation dissolve and give way to the true form of the werewolf: he was a ten-year-old boy. The stupeficium launched by Harry had hit him in the chest, throwing him back into the empty stairwell. He had broken his neck. Harry wanted to stay for ... he didn't even know what for, but his captain had sent him away instantly.

They wanted to take him to St. Mungo's but he refused. He had come home, sending Ron and Hermione away as well. He covered his face with his hands, feeling a sob squeeze his chest.

He was still lucid enough to understand that he shouldn't have been alone. He got up and wrote only two words on a card.

_Come here._

Then he tied it to his owl's paw and opened the window. He slumped to the ground, elbows resting on knees, head bowed forward. He didn't move when he heard footsteps climbing the stairs and then someone stop in front of him. A pair of elegant shoes, long legs. Malfoy grabbed him by the arms and pulled him back to his feet.

He scanned him with his eyes to see if he was hurt. "I'm fine," Harry whispered, his lips dry.

"I see it," replied the former Slytherin, unbuttoning his uniform jacket. He slid it off his shoulders and then tossed it to the floor. Harry grimaced in pain, moving his shoulder slowly. He didn't even know where he hit or when. Malfoy gently brushed his hair back, carefully examining his scalp to see if there were any injuries there either. "Let's clean up all this blood," he muttered, sliding an arm around his back.

Harry let himself go a bit against him, allowing him to escort him into the bathroom and let the shower run. Then Malfoy's hands were on him again. They grabbed the bottom edge of the shirt and pulled it off his head. Harry looked up until his eyes met his and knew he could say it… that he had to say it or he would go mad.

"I killed a ten-year-old boy," he whispered.

Malfoy's expression remained unchanged, not a hint of pity or anger. Nothing. If only he had reacted, Harry would have asked him to leave, but somehow he knew that the former Slytherin would not have done it ... that he would not judge, he would not put any more emotional burden ...

"The water is hot," Malfoy replied, his hands on Harry's waist. “Take off your pants too. I'll leave you some privacy "he said as he went out into the corridor.

"Malfoy," Harry called and he must have caught something in his voice, because he stopped just outside the door.

"I'll wait here. If you need me, call me "

Harry washed slowly, as if the emotional pain had transferred to his body, making his movements slow and tiring. When even the last trace of dried blood was washed away, it collapsed against the tiles. After an indefinite time, he heard Malfoy open the door again. His arm slipped into the shower to shut off the now cold water.

“Come on, get out of there,” he told him, wrapping him in a bath towel. Harry closed his eyes, he was shaking again. Malfoy led him into the bedroom and sat him on the bed. He slipped the towel off his shoulders, draping it around his hips, then leaned forward to clinically examine his shoulder. The fingers moved lightly on the skin covered with the tattoo ink. “You have a swollen shoulder. I'll be right back, ”he said, before leaving the room. Harry wished he didn't, but couldn't muster enough energy to protest. Harry looked up at him as he walked back into the room with a tube of ointment in his fingers.

He squeezed a generous dose into the congested skin, starting to massage it.

A stylet of pain crossed his shoulder, reverberating throughout his body. Harry bit his lower lip to hold back a groan, until Malfoy was done medicating.

"Put on your pajamas," he ordered, leaving the room to wash his hands. Harry got rid of the towel, wearing a pair of comfortable pants and a shirt. He ran his hands through his still wet hair, trying to quell the tremor that kept shaking him. He could hear Malfoy moving into the other room, opening and closing lockers ... His light footsteps on the floor.

Harry wanted to ask him to stay, not to leave him alone… not to judge him for what he had done, but he didn't need to. The former Slytherin returned to his room and observed him clinically, before reaching out to him. Harry shivered again as his palm touched his cheek, his thumb running up his cheekbone. For a second he thought he would give in… that he would start screaming and never stop.

"Come here," Malfoy said, pushing him back. He tucked the covers back, as he had done on the night of Lucius' death. Fingers through his hair. Then he lay down on the mattress beside him, perfectly dressed except for his shoes. Head on the pillow. The hand on his arm.

"Now sleep, Potter."

The next morning, Malfoy made sure Harry didn't need him and then left. Without a comment. Without a proposal to meet again. Harry was fine with that.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading the second chapter as well. I hope you enjoyed it.   
> If you like, leave a comment or a kudos, please :-)


	3. CHAPTER 3

Six weeks had passed since the night of the slaughter of girls. Harry had been suspended from duty and then reinstated after his therapist had given permission. Autumn had turned into December and Harry had found himself immersed in the Christmas mood before he could fully realize it.

He raised his plate high as three children darted past him. The Barrow was full of voices, food and children running all over the place.

Harry sat down by the fireplace, eating the meatloaf and trying to make himself invisible. "Harry, dear, I'm counting an extra seat for your date at the Christmas dinner," Molly said, consulting the to-do list she always carried with her now. It wasn't exactly a question.

Harry filled his mouth as much as possible to avoid replying. Molly was about to start one of the usual telling-offs about finding a good guy and settling down but luckily one of the kids dropped the punch jug, smashing it. Harry loved The Weasleys… but sometimes they were too much. Too much family. Too much of everything.

He quickly finished his dinner and then made an excuse to go home.

On his desk he found a note with only a few words.

_What are you doing on Christmas?_

**

Harry ducked abruptly, avoiding the swinging sail. He grabbed the rope, following Malfoy's instructions. The sailboat leaned more to the side, for a moment it seemed suspended in a limbo of time, then took the wake of the wind and gained speed. Harry closed his eyes, tilting his head back a little.

The warm sun on the skin, the taste of salt on the lips, the wind in the hair. He opened his eyes again when a dolphin leaped beside the boat. He couldn't believe he wasn't in England. He glanced at the former Slytherin at the helm.

Above all he could not believe he was with Malfoy, in the crystal clear sea of Fiji, on an eight-meter sailboat. As soon as he had proposed it to him, he had thought it was one of his usual pranks that were only meant to embarrass him and make him look like an idiot. But then Malfoy had shown him the tickets for an intercontinental portkey, the receipt for the charter of the sailboat… he would have gone without him too.

And he could have spent another rowdy Christmas with the Weasley tribe.

He tied a rope as the boat lost speed. Malfoy dropped anchor and pulled his glasses over his hair. Her skin tone was less pale and sickly. His hair was lighter, softened by the sun and salt. "Now you can take off your life jacket," he told him, pulling off his. Harry complied, then tossing him aside. He lit the grill and placed the prawns on it.

Draco handed him a glass of white wine, which Harry sipped slowly as he cooked. At that time he should perhaps have been at the table with The Weasleys ... perhaps it was time for gifts ...

He narrowed his eyes slightly as Mafoy's light fingers touched the back of his neck. "You have to put some more cream, you're burning yourself"

Harry just turned his head to look at him. Crazy. It was the only adjective he could use to describe the situation. For a moment he considered asking him to put on sunscreen. He smiled slightly, shaking his head and mentally calling himself an idiot.

"Where were you supposed to be?" Malfoy asked, pouring them both more white wine. He had also taken off his shirt, remaining only with the men's swimsuit. His shoulders were broad, his arms strong as if he were used to doing a lot of outdoor sports. Harry had a trained body from years of training, but Malfoy had a slim, sleek body. Without imperfections. Free of the scars that dotted his here and there.

"In the Burrow," Harry replied, returning to focus on what he was doing. He flipped the prawns, checking the cooking.

"Scary. How many children do The Weasleys have now? "

“I stopped counting them to Ron and Hermione's second child. The others… I don't know, I confuse them. I buy too many gifts, generally for children of different ages ... so somehow I always manage to please everyone. " Harry replied, accepting the second glass of wine as well. It was good and fresh. "Where were you supposed to be?"

"In France, with my mother and her second husband. He is a French Pureblood and is twelve years younger than her," said the former Slytherin, taking a sip of wine.

"Fuck, Malfoy ... you talk about him like he's a horse"

"It would probably be smarter if he were a horse," Draco muttered, stealing a prawn from the grill and biting into it. "It is not yet perfectly cooked"

"That's why I didn't give you permission to eat it," Harry replied, turning them again and browning them on the other side.

"From how happy my mother is, I think she has at least one characteristic of a French Pureblood stallion," said the former Slytherin, Malfoy was witty, bitterly funny as only someone who can see reality objectively can be. Harry was able to appreciate him, at least until he was the subject of his jokes, which still happened very often.

Harry grimaced, hearing his cell phone ring. He pulled it out of the back pocket of his costume, watching the video Hermione had sent him. There were many red-haired heads, children running all over the place shouting Merry Christmas, Uncle Harry.

Hugo froze in front of the phone, listing all the gifts he had received. Immediately afterwards his sister gave him a push, waving to him. "We miss you so much, Uncle Harry."

Hermione turned the screen towards her. "Where have you been? Call me as soon as you can! We are opening the gifts ”she said. In England it was evening and it was snowing.

"What is that?" Draco asked, peeking over his shoulder.

“A Muggle cell phone. Hermione gave it to me "he replied, while Draco slipped it out of his hand to examine it better." It is used to talk even at a great distance, to send instant messages ... photos or videos "he added, starting to remove the shrimp from the grill. He glanced at Draco as he kept touching the screen, he was clearly fascinated. "Do you realize it's a Muggle invention?" Harry asked, taking it from his hand again.

"What did you tell them?"

"About what?"

Malfoy shrugged, grabbing another prawn. "You can't just not show up on Christmas day with your family"

"The truth ... I'm in Fiji with Draco Malfoy on a sailboat"

"And did they believe it?"

Harry smiled, taking his wine glass again. "No. I actually said I was going to see my uncles… who wanted to reconcile with me for Christmas. " he replied, making a small grimace. “Hermione didn't believe it, but she didn't insist. Can you get some more wine please? I've never had a completely sober Christmas in the past twelve years. "

**

The ocean was colder than he expected. Perhaps because they were a few kilometers away from the beach, but the seabed was the most wonderful he had ever seen.

Harry took off his mask, then ran a hand through his hair to get rid of the excess water. He wrapped himself in a towel, shivering slightly and lay down on a bath towel. He closed his eyes letting the sun warm him. He felt strangely rested and exhausted at the same time, his skin smeared with salt and reddened by the sun.

"Have you seen it?" Mafoy asked, taking off his mask and snorkel. A few salty drops fell from his body, crashing into Harry's legs.

The former Slytherin dabbed his hair with a towel, he seemed accustomed to everything ... sailing boats, high mountains ... sports and more generally the good things in life.

Harry did his best not to observe his sculpted abdomen, his barely protruding hipbones, which made an inviting V. He watched a few drops of water slide down his abdomen, follow the inviting pattern of the muscles, then go to die on the edge of the costume. Harry licked his lips, looking away as Malfoy lay down beside him.

“That ten-foot-long shark on the bottom? I was just wondering when you were going to inform me that there are sharks in these waters, "he replied, propping himself up on his elbows and looking at the horizon.

Malfoy just laughed, a sound so unusual for him that Harry turned to glance at him. "Didn't you want a family Christmas?" he replied, running his fingers through his hair. Eyes closed. Harry took a second to look at him, feeling his hands tingle with the desire to touch him. Mafoy must have noticed, but stood still. The chest rose and fell slowly following the rhythm of breathing. The sailboat pitched, driven by the wind. The sound of the sea was hypnotic. Everything seemed to conspire to make him forget who he was ... who he was with ...

"Why did you invite me?" Harry whispered.

Malfoy didn't answer right away, just shifting slightly on the towel. An arm folded under the nape, a hand softly resting on the belly. His face turned towards him, his eyelids still lowered.

"It is the first Christmas without my father. You are the only person I can tolerate, "he murmured, before opening his eyes. For a second Harry thought Malfoy's eyes were amazing, so full of thoughts, so alive.

Harry held his breath as Malfoy sat up. He had never realized how dangerous his eyes were.

"Or maybe I liked the idea of spending Christmas in Fiji with an undeniably attractive guy ..." he whispered, leaning over him and placing a kiss on the shoulder. "I wanted to understand ... if he would let me lick his tattoo ... I've been fantasizing about it since I saw him without a shirt for the first time"

Harry narrowed his eyes, letting out a sigh as Malfoy's lips slowly traced his shoulder and part of his chest covered in black ink. He felt his eyelids get heavy, his breath quickening, as he lay back on the towel. The warmth of Malfoy's body on his, his hands on his chest… on his hips… exploring every inch of skin.

Harry arched his head back, giving him free access to his neck. Malfoy's tongue followed the line of his throat and then his head moved down. Malfoy closed his lips on Harry's nipple, sucking hard enough to make him gasp.

"Malfoy" he let out in a strangled moan as her mouth began to wander over his body again. Harry wanted him to stop and wanted him to continue at the same time. He writhed under him, his penis hard to hurt.

Draco held his hips down with his palms, continuing his exploration with gruelling slowness. His mouth reached everywhere, mapping his body with devotion.

"And how is it going ... with the undeniably attractive guy?" Harry whispered, feeling him stop just below his navel. Malfoy touched a now faded scar on his abdomen with his tongue, ripping out another low moan, before looking at him.

“I waited for him to make the first move like a good Gryffindor,” he muttered, grabbing the edge of the swimsuit with his fingers. "But maybe a Slytherin is better at some things," he whispered, before lowering the elastic and taking his dick in his mouth.

Harry arched his back, fingers in Malfoy's hair as the former Slytherin moved his mouth over him. The thought _Draco Malfoy is giving me a blow job_ crossed his mind before his tongue stroked the tip of his erection and caused him a deep wave of arousal. _And he knows exactly how to do it_ , he thought, getting lost in that damp, wet paradise.

Malfoy opened his lips more, taking in as much of his erection as he could and sucked. For a moment Harry thought he was lost, then regained control, digging his fingers into his hair and making him lift his head. He stared at those iced eyes for a moment, before reversing positions and letting him lie down under him.

Malfoy's lips were curled in a half smile, his eyes filled with a mischievous light as Harry slipped a hand into his bathing suit and closed his fist on him. Malfoy's cock was long and hard. "Did you expect me to do this?" Harry growled, accompanying his words with firm flicks of the wrist.

Malfoy groaned, anchoring his fingers to his forearms. Harry bent over him, until he brushed the tip of his nose with his own. For a second he was tempted to kiss him ... to slide his tongue into his mouth ... but he wanted Malfoy to want him ...

"Y-yes" whispered the former Slytherin, staring now at his lips now at his eyes. Harry licked his jaw, then descended on his neck and savored the brackish water and his skin that tasted so hopelessly of him.

"What else did you expect me to do?" Harry murmured, pushing his erection against his, his hands wandering over his body. He wanted to leave the imprint of his hands everywhere, he wanted to touch him everywhere ... taste every inch of his body.

Malfoy grabbed him by the hair, slowly lifting his hips to meet his movements. "Fuck me… I've been expecting you to fuck me for years, Potter… it was…" he whispered, sliding his hand between their bodies and lowering his boxers to his hips. Harry's erection rubbed against his abdomen, the tip moist with pre-orgasmic liquid. "The longest fucking preliminaries in history ..." he said, then brushing his jaw with his teeth.

Harry knew they should go down to the cabin. He took a quick look around to make sure there were no boats nearby. He would fuck Malfoy there, on the deck of the sailboat, under the lush Fijian sky.

"You have…"

"In my duffel bag," Malfoy replied. Harry stroked his sunburned cheek and was spellbound for a moment. "Don't move," he whispered, getting up and rearranging his costume to go below deck. Harry opened the duffel bag and retrieved the lube and condom before going back upstairs.

Malfoy was naked. The boxers abandoned in a corner. His body was perfect. The narrow hips, a light blonde hair under the navel, the long, straight cock ... Harry felt his mouth fill with saliva from the temptation to lick it.

He threw the bottle at Malfoy, ordering him to get ready, then shook off the bathing suit soaked in salt water and pre-orgasmic liquid.

He licked his lips, watching Malfoy's expert fingers disappear between his own buttocks. He opened the condom sachet with his fingers, unable to look away. For a second, the play of light on the former Slytherin's face took his breath away.

He knelt on the deck of the boat, between his legs, enjoying the wait ... the exciting vision of Malfoy, naked under him. His incredibly strong and elegant body.

"There's one thing you don't know ..." he whispered, running his hands along Malfoy's legs, pressing with his palms until he reached his hips. Malfoy wriggled beneath him, his cheeks just blushing as Potter's fingers slid down his buttocks.

"What?" Malfoy whispered, lifting his hips a little to facilitate his movements.

Harry reached a finger to its opening, finding it already completely wet. He touched it with his fingertip, barely penetrating it and making him moan with excitement. Lips parted. Harry couldn't stop admiring them. "The Sorting Hat wanted to sort me out among the Slytherins," he whispered, adding a second finger. He bent and twisted them enough to make him moan again.

"Lucky for you, Malfoy ..." Harry continued, leaning over him and tearing his fingers away from his body. A few drops of salt water fell from his hair. Harry grabbed Malfoy's hip, digging his fingers into his skin. His mouth so close to his that he could breathe his breath. "I chose to go to Gryffindors." Harry growled, pushing inside him abruptly.

On the second thrust, Malfoy's fingers dug into his shoulder and then slid over the muscles of his back. Harry watched him bite his lower lip as he fucked him with long, deep thrusts. He was too tight ... maybe he should have prepared him more ... take his time to taste him ...

The thought sent him a wave of excitement directly to the lower abdomen, increasing the urgency of the thrusts. Harry lifted himself up slightly and slipped his hands under Malfoy's knees to place his calves on his shoulders. Malfoy was bloody tall. And above all, damn gorgeous, as he let himself be carried away by the waves of pleasure and indulged in his movements without inhibitions.

Harry took his time to observe his distraught face before sinking back into him. The rough moan that rose up his throat reverberated directly on his dick.

Harry fucked him hard, changing the angle only slightly each time the Malfoy moans grew louder. He just tilted his head back, his mouth ajar on the hot breath, trying to send it back again ... to enjoy it as much as possible ... but he was lost when Malfoy buried his fingers in his hair and abruptly pulled him towards him, reaching orgasm with a strangled sob.

Harry pushed inside him one last time, his heart thundering in his ears and temples, as he reached the peak of pleasure so violently that he gasped. He supported himself on one hand as he maneuverer the former Slytherin's legs to bring them down.

Harry was only vaguely aware of how indecent they must look, so naked and tangled on the deck.

He hid his face in the hollow between Malfoy's neck and shoulder, stifling a snort of laughter. He would stay that way forever… with Malfoy under him… his dick no longer hard, still halfway deep inside him.

He lazily stroked Malfoy's hip, before moving away and laying down on the other bath towel. His eyes fixed on the cloudless sky.

The scent of Malfoy's skin on him, like an impalpable inscription on his flesh. Harry covered his forehead with his arm, trying to calm his breath.

"Merry fucking Christmas, Potter," Malfoy said, sitting up, before turning to look at him over his shoulder. Harry laughed softly, giving him a look.

"You too, Malfoy"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And we finally got to sex! I hope you enjoyed this chapter ... I know that the story started out a bit complicated, with a very difficult theme to deal with.
> 
> If you like, leave me a comment, please :-)


	4. CHAPTER 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Last chapter! Hope you like it :-)

Harry took a sip of beer, leaning with the base of his back on the island in the middle of the kitchen. Hermione was very good at that kind of manoeuvre: she had invited him to dinner, making the excuse that they hadn't seen each other at Christmas, then she had sent Ron and the children to get the pizzas, even if they could have them delivered to their homes, and finally she had thrown in there a seemingly harmless comment about her skin having a nice glow.

They'd been playing that game for years and Harry knew she'd get to the point eventually. It was up to him whether to drag her out, making her nervous, or to give in to her questions.

Harry smacked his lips. "Thank you. At my uncles' house, there was a beautiful sun ... I got a little tanned ... "

Hermione just arched an eyebrow. "I see it," she replied, holding his gaze for a moment before bursting out laughing. “Oh, come on, Harry,” Hermione snapped. “I know you weren't with your uncles. Be good ... throw me a bone”.

Harry laughed too, setting the beer down on the table and folding his arms across his chest. "I was with a ... friend," he replied, unsure what word to use to define Malfoy.

"Are we talking about the friend you called ... that night?" Hermione encouraged him. Harry hated her for always being so intuitive.

“Yes, it's the same friend. He didn't want to spend the first Christmas without his father and wrote to me. That's all"

Hermione took a deep breath. "A friend," she exhaled.

Harry nodded. "A kind of friend".

"But you two have sex." It wasn't exactly a question.

Harry burst out laughing, picking up his beer and taking a sip. “Yeah, we slept together,” he replied, looking back on vacation days with Malfoy.

Sleeping together wasn't the right definition. Fucking was the most suitable. Without kisses on the mouth, without emotional involvement, without intimate gestures or affection once they were done. On the night he had killed that kid by mistake and Lucius died, pain had united them as Harry didn't think possible, creating a communication bridge, made of whispered words and kind gestures, which they had never had before.

Sex had swept everything away, as if they tacitly agreed not to get involved ... as if sex and intimacy were too much to manage ...

"But do you like him?"

Harry shrugged. "Yes, but that's not the point ..."

"Doesn't he like you?" Hermione pressed him and Harry could physically feel that she was cornering him.

"I don't know and I don't care ... it's a relationship based on utility ... We don't see each other, we don't write to each other and we don't even feel the need to see each other. Sex was ... "

Harry closed his eyes for a moment as he thought back to how wonderful the sex with Draco Malfoy "…unexpected."

"Is that okay with you?" Hermione interrupted, studying him thoroughly. “Actually no… that's not okay with you. You've decided it has to be that way, "she said and Harry suddenly remembered why she was the brightest witch of their generation. Or perhaps, simply, the person who knew him best in the world.

She exhaled deeply, looking for something to say that didn't support her hypothesis. Eventually, he just shrugged again. "It can't be a part of my life more than that."

"For what reason?" Hermione pressed him and Harry was on the point of telling her it was Draco Malfoy and ending the discussion victorious.

"Because he can't mix with my friends, with my family ... be a part of most of my life," he replied, running a hand through his messy hair. "Because he's not someone I want to hang out with ..."

"You don't want to," she replied and Harry sensed that Hermione was going to win the argument somehow. She was about to say the thing that would award her victory, but then her gaze softened. “I love you, Harry. But sometimes you are an unaffective bastard. You tend to keep close to the people you already love and everyone else has but crumbs of you ... I don't want you to really like this guy but somehow you've already decided it's not good for you ... "she said. , before stopping for a few seconds. "Sometimes, you hurt people without even realizing it."

"Thankfully, you love me," Harry comments, finishing his beer in two long gulps.

She walked over to him, ruffling his hair. "I love you. Very very much. Just make sure he's okay with it, too, before you shut him out, ”the witch murmured.

"Do you really think it's possible that ..." he whispered, but his words were cut short by Ron's voice coming from the hall announcing his return.

**

Hermione's words had somehow crept into his brain, because in the following days Harry was about to write to Malfoy to ask him if he would like to go out for a beer. When something funny happened to him, his thoughts went to the former Slytherin ... Harry imagined what he would say about a situation with his witty sense of humor, the way he would look at it ... the way he would curve a corner of the mouth. He felt like an idiot.

He liked Malfoy but not in that sense… he couldn't imagine the two of them as a couple… The whole situation was too surreal.

A dark, cold January gave way to a rainy February and Harry had somehow managed to get Malfoy out of his head, binding him into a corner he never opened.

At least until he saw him with someone else.

By the end of the shift they had gone to the pub to celebrate Ron's promotion. Most of the tables were occupied by Aurors. A lot of alcohol, a lot of testosterone, a lot of war-related tales. Harry was already half drunk when he saw him enter. Perfect hair, the collar of his dark blue coat touched his charming jaw. Malfoy was frozen in the doorway, a handsome dark-haired boy right behind him.

Harry hadn't deciphered his expression until someone recognized him and yelled an insult. Harry had hesitated, too worried that someone would read his face… When he saw the ashtray fly towards him, Harry had put his hand to his wand and blew the ashtray against a wall without hurting anyone.

Malfoy had looked at him, a long, hateful glance before hurrying out of the pub. Harry wanted to follow him, but he was too drunk ... Better to tell himself he was drunk, rather than admit he didn't want his fellow Aurors to know ... rather than see him with someone else ...

He had come home, staggering. He just hoped that in the apparition he hadn't lost something important. He leaned against the iron fence, his head clouded. Two hands closed on his uniform jacket and slammed him against the gate. "Damn, Potter," Malfoy growled.

Eyes flooded with anger. The warm breath against his mouth. The solid and warm body. Harry could feel it even with all his clothes on. And then Harry thought he was glad to see him… that he wanted to kiss him and that he was stupid not to write to him.

He buried his fingers in his hair, while Malfoy shook him again. "I want to fuck you," Harry whispered, his cock already hard in his pants.

He watched the former Slytherin lick his lips and knew it was going to happen ... that he was going to kiss him ... Harry turned his head to the side and Malfoy's mouth landed on his neck. He didn't want it to happen like this… with him half drunk and Malfoy pissed off. Harry didn't even understand why he was pissed off ... but then his hands found their way under his clothes ...

His mouth found a point in the hollow between the shoulder and the neck and sucked the sensitive skin, leaving a mark. Harry tilted his head back, staggering towards the entrance. Their clothes scattered on the stairs.

And then Malfoy was riding him. His hips moved decisively. The nails digging hot paths on his chest. Harry dug his fingers into his thighs, indulging his convulsive movements and just wishing he would make him cum.

He closed his fist on Malfoy's erection, brutally masturbating him until he felt his semen dripping between his fingers. Then Harry grabbed him by the waist and threw him onto the mattress, slamming his cock into him in the frenzy of the last thrusts. His vision darkened for a moment as he dropped onto Malfoy's sweaty back.

Harry's hot breath on the back of his neck, his face buried in his hair. Harry inhaled as much of his scent as he could, rubbing the tip of his nose against him. It was never enough for him… he had to steal pieces of Malfoy in those rare moments and then remember them later, when he couldn't write to him… he couldn't call him. He placed a light kiss on his shoulder and then slipped from his body, moving to the side so as not to burden him too much with his weight. Harry stroked his back one last time with his lips, before collapsing on the mattress.

Malfoy lay down, face down. The head turned away so as not to look at it. The naked, toned and beautiful body. But there was something wrong ...

Harry wished he were more sober. "Did I hurt you?" whisper. He started to touch him again when Malfoy turned to him. On his face he had an expression that he had only seen a few times. The horrible feeling of having done something wrong closed his stomach.

If only his hands hadn't shaken so much he would have tried to caress him. "Let me see, I have ..."

"Yeah," Malfoy whispered. "But not because you fucked me ..." he replied, standing up. Harry's semen ran down his thigh. He pulled on his boxers without looking at him and Harry sensed that if he didn't say or do the right things, Malfoy would walk away, probably never to call him again. But he was completely paralyzed.

He didn't know what to do. So he watched him dress in the semi-darkness and then walk away.

**

Harry spent the next day thinking about what he should say or do, but he couldn't find an answer. He also wrote several letters, but tore them up one after the other. At work he was so distracted that he kept making trivial mistakes. In the end, he said that he felt unwell and that he would go home a little earlier.

His announcement was greeted by a chorus of mockery that he could not stand alcohol. Harry shielded himself with a vague wave of his arm. He still hadn't been able to figure out what to do, but his mind couldn't rest. Malfoy's expression ... his words ... the former Slytherin he knew would never admit that he had hurt him ...

Harry entered the building which housed a number of law offices. He went up the stairs and reached Hermione's office, before she could think about it.

He found her sitting at her desk, her hair more curly than usual. Several empty cups scattered all over the place. Crookshanks slept curled up in a chair. The fur all ruffled. "Hey, am I bothering you?" Harry greeted her, scratching the cat's head with his fingertips. He rewarded him with a hoarse verse. He stretched and then went back to sleep.

"No ... if you make me a coffee"

Lui fece un cenno affermativo con il capo, avvicinandosi alla macchinetta. Sentiva gli occhi inquisitori dell’amica sulla schiena. 

"I need your help. I don't know how but I think I hurt a person, ”he said as he retrieved two clean cups.

"The Christmas guy," she replied quickly, closing the file she was examining. "How much did you hurt him?"

Harry shook his head, pouring a large dose of coffee into the two cups. He handed one to his friend, then sat down in the chair in front of her. "I do not know. A lot… I think. He left last night ... "

"I thought you only saw each other occasionally"

"Hermione, please," he replied. She raised her arms in surrender, then reached out a hand in his direction. "Give me your credit card"

"What? Why?"

She just looked at him with an arched eyebrow. "And your cell phone too"

He gave her everything. She typed quickly throwing him a glance from time to time, while he slowly savored the coffee. "You can go" she finally said "You spent 70 pounds"

"Why?"

“Because you're an asshole, Harry. I should have made you spend a lot more. Now go, I have work to do, ”she said, dismissing him with a wave of her hand.

Harry got up and walked to the door. He had already gone out into the corridor when a thought made him freeze. He turned to his friend, who had tied her hair using a pencil as a clip. "How did you know where to send what you bought?" Harry asked.

“You never mentioned his name. You were careful not to provide any clues about the mysterious man apart from one: it was the first Christmas without his father. Last year you officially handled nine homicides and three suicides. None of these involved a person we know. But ... there is a fourth case.

You answered the call, but then the conflict of interest prevented you from officially being involve. A few weeks after the man's suicide, you disappeared for a weekend and came back with a tanned face ... a tan that can only be taken if you go skiing or something like that.

I figured you might have met the mystery man in a gay club ... but you don't talk about personal things with your occasional sex.

Not to mention that all of this happened before… the night of the girls and the werewolf and you assured me that night that you called a friend and that you were not alone.

You felt guilty and needed to have someone close to you who could understand your state of mind at that moment ... someone who had done things he was not proud of.

Three weeks ago, I met this person at the Ministry and by chance I noticed the lighter mark of the leather bracelet on his wrist, as if he had recently tanned. I heard… again by chance… that he was signing the sales documents for the family home and indicated his new address on the form.

I placed an order with a Muggle shopkeeper so that no one in the wizarding world can sell the story to Rita Skeeter and I signed the note only with H. Your privacy should be safe. "

Hermione looked up to look at him. "If I am wrong, it will be very embarrassing"

“You're scary,” Harry murmured, “you're great, but you're scary. I really don't know how Voldemort thought he could beat us with you by my side "

Hermione rolled her eyes before returning to her files.

**

Harry had spent the evening in agitation. He'd done a quick search on his phone, but couldn't figure out what Hermione had bought for Draco Malfoy. It still seemed crazy to him. Eventually, he got dressed and headed to the academy gym. At that time of night it was deserted. He had put on the boxing gloves and started training.

He was unleashing a series of uppercuts when an owl landed on a bench. Harry unrolled the note recognizing the handwriting.

_Where are you?_

He took his badge and charmed it so that Malfoy could join him directly at the gym. Then he tied it to the owl's paw and sent it away.

_Muggle cell phones are much more comfortable anyway_ , he thought, starting to punch again, but he was distracted. The ears attentive to every little noise, the muscles tense. He was feeling fifteen again when he was still trying to be straight and chasing Cho in the corridors of Hogwarts. He lost his rhythm when he finally heard footsteps approaching.

He turned to see Malfoy walking through pools of darkness where the training room was not lit. In his hand he held the largest bouquet of red roses Harry had ever seen. His mouth went dry all of a sudden realizing that he had sent it to him ... or Hermione using his name. He would have killed her.

"What are these?" Malfoy said in an annoyed tone.

Harry shifted his weight from foot to foot nervously.

"Some flowers?" he replied, not quite sure it was the right answer.

Somehow, he had pissed him off. Again. It was amazing how they quickly understood each other about the most important things and how they constantly argued about everything else.

As long as they were fucking or swimming or climbing a mountain everything was fine.

"Why did you send me flowers?"

Harry unbuckled a glove with his teeth and then tossed it aside. “Look, Malfoy, I pissed you off. It seemed like a nice gesture to apologize, ”he replied. In one part of his brain Hermione was yelling at him. As soon as he looked up at the former Slytherin he realized he was furious.

Malfoy placed the roses on a bench, shaking his head slowly. In an instant he was coldly calm again. He slipped his hands into his coat pocket, looking around for a few seconds as if he couldn't find the right words to say.

“What you did for me… the night my father died… I'll never forget it, but everything that happened after that was a big mistake. Let's look at it as an isolated incident and close it here, ”Malfoy said.

Harry realized to his horror that the former Slytherin was dumping him. He swallowed hard, also taking off the other glove while Malfoy put down the badge he had sent him next to the flowers and then turned his back on him.

"What if ... if I wanted to date you?"

Malfoy stopped. The long coat made him appear even taller. "You can not"

“Why can't I? When we were in Fiji ... "

“Fiji was a mistake,” Malfoy replied, looking back at him. “Like everything else. You are the hero of the magical world, you are about to become the head of the Auror department ... I am a Death Eater "

"Former Death Eaters," Harry whispered, wetting his lips with the tip of his tongue.

Malfoy shook his head, his hands still sinking into his pockets. "Does it make a difference?" he answered quickly.

Harry was about to reply that for him yes, there was a big difference, but Malfoy took a few steps closer. Once again his intense and intelligent eyes nailed him. "Let's not make it any more unpleasant than necessary," Malfoy whispered, brushing his cheek with the back of his fingers. "Find a nice Gryffindor who loves you and get married, Potter" he murmured, leaning over him to touch the corner of his mouth with his lips.

Harry stood still, his arms at his sides. He didn't say anything when Malfoy pulled away. He watched him go. Whatever he said, it wouldn't stop him.

**

He watched Molly stuff the roses into a large vase and then continue gazing at them. They were so beautiful that he hadn't been able to throw them away, but at the same time he didn't want to keep them at home. He raised his head slightly as Hermione went to sit next to him by the fireplace. The children were playing quietly on the carpet.

"The gift was not a great idea," said the witch, slowly sipping her tea.

"The flowers are beautiful," Harry replied quickly "But he doesn't want to see me anymore"

"What did you tell him?"

Harry looked at her with a surprised expression, but she just arched an eyebrow, waiting for him to explain.

"Nothing ... I pissed him off and the flowers were a kind gesture to remedy"

Hermione slapped him on the arm. Strongly. "You're an idiot. You don't send a bouquet of roses out of kindness. You should have told him how you feel… tell him you miss him. "

"I don't miss him," Harry retorted automatically. He rubbed his forehead with his fingertips. “I mean… I don't know. Over the past two months I've often thought about writing to him… you know when something funny happens to you during the day and you think Oh, tonight I have to tell Ron… just that he wasn't there and… "

“Wait, you've been thinking about this since after Christmas and haven't written to him? Did _you disappear_ after the holidays you spent together? "

Harry ran his fingers over his rough beard jaw. “I am gone, I think. But he didn't write to me either. "

"I don't care what he did, I want to understand what you didn't do," Hermione replied and for a moment Harry was sure she was about to slap him again.

"I didn't do anything," Harry replied loudly enough for Rose to turn to him. He suggested how to beat her brother at the game they were playing, before returning to look at Hermione.

"We have never even kissed ... and I swear to you that this thought is driving me crazy"

She widened her eyes a little. "But I thought that ..."

"You can have sex without kissing, Hermione," Harry hissed.

She stirred her tea absorbed for a few minutes. "Are you sure you're not doing it just because he dumped you?"

Harry shrugged. “I don't know, but he doesn't want to see me anymore and I have no idea how to convince him otherwise. And then ... then he is right. There is a whole part of my life that he cannot be a part of. Can you imagine it here ... with the Weasleys at Christmas? " “Harry?”  
“Mh?”

“Do you realize that you are already considering this? If it was just a fuck, you would have enjoyed it until you lose interest or get bored ... "

"If it was just a fuck it would be easier ... but if it were, I wouldn't have ... let him in ..."

Hermione put a hand on his arm, stroking it softly. "I know. Talk to him ... if it goes wrong, he casts a spell on you. "

Then Hugo ran towards him and climbed up on his knee with a book to be read and the subject Malfoy was never touched again.

**

Harry got up from the steps when he saw him come running. Fluorescent shoes, a light wool hat to cover his blond hair. Malfoy paused at the base of the stairs, glancing first at him and then at the coffee and the bag of croissants he was holding.

"What do you want?" he asked, taking the keys and running up the steps. Harry raised the tray with the coffees a little.

"Offer you breakfast?"

“I don't have time for breakfast. I have to shower and go to the office, ”Malfoy replied coldly as he entered the house. Harry followed him up the stairs to his attic. Malfoy's apartment was brighter and more minimalist than he expected. White walls, white sofas… just a few touches of color expertly placed here and there.

"That's why I got you a takeaway breakfast," Harry replied, setting it all on a table. Then he walked over to him as he was taking off his running shirt. He touched his spine with his fingers and felt him shiver under his touch. "And I'd like to invite you to dinner on Friday"

"I already have an appointment," Malfoy retorted, as Harry slipped his arms around his waist and touched the corner of his jaw with his lips.

"Saturday"

"I'm busy all weekends of my life," Malfoy replied as Harry slipped his hands under his shirt and stroked his back.

"Okay ... so Thursday, Wednesday ... when you want ..." Harry whispered, sinking his face between his neck and shoulder and placing a trail of light kisses. Malfoy's hands came up on his shoulders, pulling him aside.

"No," murmured the former Slytherin. "I'm serious ... let's pretend it didn't happen ..."

"I tried," Harry interrupted, looking into his eyes "I tried not to write to you ... not to look for you ... But I can't get you out of my head."

Malfoy looked away for a few seconds before looking back at him. "We will hurt each other"

"We've hurt each other in the past ... and we've also been in the center of epic scenes ... you saving my life ... me saving your life ... between us it's always been epic ..." Harry whispered, kissing him softly on the corner of the mouth. Draco barely moved his lips. Fingers through his hair. "Okay ... a dinner on Friday"

Harry smiled. "Really?"

“Yes, Potter, really. Now go, I'm late, ”Malfoy replied, freeing himself from the grip of his arms. Harry stepped back without stopping smiling.

"For dinner ... you mean ..." he said, biting his lower lip.

"The two of us sitting at a table having dinner," Malfoy replied angrily.

Harry made a small grimace. "You would save me a lot of time if you gave me some details ... in Diagon Alley, where everyone can see us, in Muggle London, in magical Paris ... there are ..."

Malfoy exhaled deeply, grabbing him by the arm and pushing him out of the apartment. "Did they ever tell you you suck at these things?"

"In fact ..."

“I book. Now go away "

**

Harry leaned against the column, covering his head with one arm. Several spells hit the plinth, spraying stones and rubble everywhere. He glanced at the clock. I'm mathematically late for dinner, he realized, as hell was breaking loose around him.

"Gringotts have not been attacked since we were kids," said Ron a few meters away.

"My usual luck," Harry muttered, summoning his patronus. He told him that he would be a little late and that he was sorry. Then he sent him to Malfoy.

"A gallant date?" Ron asked after casting a couple of spells.

"Believe me ... you don't want to know," Harry muttered, before gripping his wand more firmly. “Okay, we have to move forward. Weasley, Carter and Smith on the right. The others cover. I'm going to take a diversion. ”Harry yelled, coming out and running. He deflected all the spells, then attacked the steps leading into the bank.

*

He leaned against the wall with one shoulder, trying to control his breathing. His side hurt like hell. He ran a hand through his hair, removing even the last fragments of dust.

He straightened his back a little, stopping in front of the door of Malfoy's apartment. "You're late ..." he was saying when the former Slytherin realized his condition. Harry tried to cover the gash that crossed the shoulder of his uniform, as if it were the biggest problem.

“Sorry, I had a little setback,” he said, realizing that he was short of breath and that he was having trouble breathing normally. For an instant his vision darkened. He struggled not to lose consciousness, leaning against the door jamb.

"What happened?" Malfoy asked, his arms supporting him. Harry had to bite the inside of his cheek to keep from screaming.

“Nothing… a trifle… sorry, I'm late. Can we go now?"

"No, Potter We're not going anywhere ... you need a doctor"

"I'm fine, I ..."

"Did you come here in these conditions because you were afraid I would be pissed if I didn't skip dinner?"

Harry was about to say yes, but he held himself back, sensing that it wasn't the right answer to give right now. Malfoy had to guess something anyway because he frowned instantly. His hands supported him by the shoulders, so that he could look him in the face.

"Is this what you think? That I would be pissed about a dinner?"

“I don't know what you might be pissed about! We keep arguing and I don't even know why "

Malfoy narrowed his eyes slightly. Harry could sense his icy fury before his expression relaxed again. “We will talk about it at another time. Now we have to ... "

Harry grimaced when his cell phone started ringing again. He pulled it out of his back pocket and turned it off without even checking how many missed calls from Hermione there were.

"The table is booked for the whole evening ..."

"Harry," called a voice behind him.

Harry froze, watching Hermione exit the elevator, cell phone in hand. Curly hair tied in a ponytail. She quickly reached him and from her expression Harry sensed that his situation had clearly worsened. "How did you find me?"

She stared at him for a moment, unsure whether to answer.

"I have activated a function on your phone so I can always see where you are"

"What?"

"It's a precaution for when you disappear and I don't know where you have ended up ..."

"I'm not going away," Harry replied, deliberately ignoring Malfoy who had cleared his throat in a fake cough.

"We have to take you to a doctor," the witch said, lighting up the tip of her wand and pointing it in his eyes to check his pupils.

"I'm fine," Harry muttered. Hermione stared at him for a few seconds, then turned to Malfoy.

“A group of robbers tried to rob Gringotts this afternoon. They took eleven people hostage. Harry led the Auror assault, drawing all the spells upon himself to save the hostages ... too bad he was hit by three spells "

"That they got absorbed by the vest," Harry said, pulling the jacket back to reveal a protective vest he was wearing underneath.

"Really? So ... if I do this I won't hurt you, right? " the witch replied, sticking her wand into his side, just below the hem of his vest.

Harry gritted his teeth in pain. "No, absolutely no"

Then, to his horror, Hermione turned back to Malfoy, talking to him as if he wasn't there. "He tightened the vest so that it put enough pressure on the spot where the spells hit him to keep the pain under control."

And with no need to add anything else, Malfoy's fingers undid one of the jacket's buckles. The pain flared up blazing, causing him to collapse in the arms of the former Slytherin. His breath came out in harsh gasps between his teeth. He tried to get to his feet but a stab of pure pain pierced his chest.

_Okay, maybe we should postpone dinner_ , he thought, letting Malfoy and the door jamb hold most of his weight. A sheen of cold sweat covered his forehead.

“The reporters will have already known that I was hit. No hospital, ”Harry muttered, looking at Hermione.

She pursed her lips in a thin line. "I'll call the professor," he said just before walking away to make a phone call.

"You're an idiot, Potter," Malfoy whispered in his ear, putting his arm around his neck for better support. Harry clung to his shoulder, trying desperately not to pass out. The nose touching the jaw of the former Slytherin.

"I didn't want to cancel our first date," he whispered, feeling his strength begin to abandon him.

Hermione's voice was farther and farther away, Malfoy's shoulder less real under his cheek. He inhaled the smell of his skin, only absently realizing that the former Slytherin was carrying him into the bedroom.

Harry lightly stroked his neck with his lips before finally losing consciousness.

He found Malfoy in the kitchen preparing a fruit and vegetable extract. His hair was damp. Even from a few steps away he could smell the scent of his bubble bath. "How long have I slept?" he murmured, rubbing his face with one hand.

"Sixteen hours," replied the former Slytherin, putting a cup in his hand.

"Is it coffee?" Harry muttered, not quite sure he was fully awake.

"It is a restorative potion. Drink it.” Malfoy replied, before returning to focus on what he was doing.

Harry grimaced, sniffing the cup unconvinced. He would have preferred coffee by far. Black. He was about to sit down at the table, but something held him back. _It's all like Fiji again. We don't touch except to fuck. It's as if we were two strangers ..._

He reached out and touched Malfoy's back, running his fingertips along his spine. _I don't want to be a stranger. You are one of the few people I want around when I feel weak and hurt… when I am most vulnerable._

I don't know if this thing between us was created on the night your father died, but I know it exists now ... it's real ...

"Stop for a second," Harry whispered, taking his hand with which he was slicing an apple. "Look at me"

_I had three spells in my body last night, yet I came to you. This means something ..._

He snapped an arm around Malfoy's waist, pulling him against him. _I never know what you are thinking about. I only see this host of emotions on your face ranging from anger to detachment ... and I have no idea how to have caused them ..._

"Can we have dinner together today?" Harry whispered, touching his jaw with his thumb. Harry leaned over and kissed him softly, just a light touch on his lips. "Please"

"You need to rest, Potter," replied the former Slytherin slowly stroking his arms.

Harry slipped his hands under his shirt and stroked his back. "Don't leave me alone," he whispered, pulling away just to look at him. "Not ... not when I need it ... but when I don't need it"

Malfoy watched him for a moment, running his fingers through his hair. "Okay, Potter… we can pick up from here…" he murmured, before leaning over and kissing him.

**

He slowly turned over in the sheets, feeling an incipient headache pounding behind his temples. He ran a hand over his face, eyeing Malfoy lying beside him. The slightly long blond hair ... the toned shoulders sticking out of the blanket. Harry leaned towards him and touched his eyebrow with his lips, earning a small sigh.

It had been three weeks since they had decided to try dating and Harry had realized how difficult it was to be able to reconcile their explosive characters in everyday life.

Both had a big communication problem: Draco because he came from a highly dysfunctional family, where silences were much wider than words, and Harry because he had always had a tendency to withdraw, to brood and eventually, to do as he wanted. without listening to anyone.

They were working on it ... laboriously ...

Anyone who thought that a relationship that began on such difficult grounds as theirs - their past, Lucius' tragic death - had already overcome the most difficult rocks, was wrong. Overcoming the small daily misunderstandings was the real test.

Harry put his hand on his abdomen, making it slowly rise under the shirt. Malfoy moved slowly in his sleep, feet brushing his.

"I thought you were exhausted after tonight," he grumbled, pulling him over.

"I am," Harry replied, lowering his face to brush his neck with his lips. "Completely exhausted," he added, pushing his erection against Malfoy's, who made a sound similar to a cat's purr.

"Oh, I feel it ..." he murmured, arching his head back a little to give him free access to his neck. Harry followed the line of his throat with his lips as the ringing of the bell startled him.

"Let's pretend we're not home," he whispered, nibbling his earlobe. After a moment his cell phone started ringing. "Fuck" he exhaled checking the display. A shock crossed his mind as he watched Hermione's name flash on the phone.

"Fuck… fuck…" he cursed, getting to his feet and immediately slipping into his jeans. He made a face, feeling the fabric painfully pull on his erection. “I promised to keep the kids today… I'm an idiot… sorry…” he grumbled, bumping into the cluttered chair before stepping out into the hall.

He hurried down the steps, opening the front door. "Hey," he greeted them, as Ron said he was going to check if he had anything to eat as Hermione was raging against his shirts and stopped him from having breakfast so as not to be late for the wedding.

"Don't stain your jacket," the witch shouted after him as the children ran towards the living room.

Harry grabbed her by the arm, looking at her unable to figure out what to do. "I'm not alone," he whispered softly.

She watched him for a moment, arching the corner of her mouth in a sly smile. "Kids, put on your coats ... Uncle Harry needs caffeine"

Harry mouthed a thank you. “He and his fiancé take you to Starbucks for breakfast,” she added loud enough for Malfoy to easily hear her from upstairs.

Harry frowned, reaching out to pick up Hugo who was trying to climb up his legs. Harry settled the boy on his shoulders, feeling his little hands painfully slip into his hair. Hermione leaned over to her son to adjust his shirt collar.

"Don't cut him out ... he's here to stay, not to stay hidden in the attic," she whispered in his ear before moving away. Harry looked up as Malfoy came downstairs, an indecipherable expression on his face, but his back was straight, his shoulders weren't hunched as he often did when he was tired or injured.

Maybe Hermione was right… and maybe he just needed some good advice given at the right time.

Ron emerged from the kitchen with his mouth full of cookies. He looked from Harry to Malfoy. He pointed to the former Slytherin with one finger, muttering something incomprehensible. His ears were incredibly red.

"What do you mean what Malfoy is doing here?" Hermione replied, who had obviously managed to decipher his grumbles. "I told you ages ago that he and Harry were dating"

"It's not true!" Ron replied in a high voice, his face and elegant jacket full of crumbs.

“This is why you never listen to me, Ron! Even Rose knew it "

The child hastened to confirm, evidently already well aware of which parent she should side with.

“Out now, or we'll be late for the wedding. Hugo, never let go of Uncle Harry's hand. Rose, you are in charge. Ron, stop eating! " she screamed before marching out the door.

Ron shook his head, his tie was already loose. "Never get married," he murmured, before closing the door behind him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We have reached the end of the story. I hope you enjoyed it and that it excited you. I loved Hermione in this story, she issmart and funny. As for Harry and Draco, I loved to explore how difficult it could be to make a relationship work in everyday life.
> 
> If you like, leave me a comment, please :-) See you next story!

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading the first chapter. If you would like, leave me a comment :-)


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